When I die, I want to decompose in a barrel of porter and have it served in all the pubs in Dublin.
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Friday, February 5, 2010
sun shining on her glass case.
she looks like a porcelain doll,
and has the morals of a sinner.
“do you want to share your feelings?”
“no, not really.”
but if you wind this key just right,
clockwise,
she’ll start to scream.
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